CHAMELEON

 

E'en in your presence, I see you not; 

You are a million sights away, 

Yet I can feel your stare 

Lean against my trembling skin. 

As you yawned in the morn, 

You transfigured from green to brown.

You are made of colours so infinite,

That no one can define your coat. 

O chameleon! You lost your body,

Again, at the bark of that tree.

My eyes can't speak a lie—

You must be a ghost or a god! 

©1916